


red admirable

by westchester_tao



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: ADHD Shinguji Korekiyo, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Texas, Autistic Gonta Gokuhara, Butterflies, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Meet-Cute, Non-Incestuous Shinguji Korekiyo, Panic Attacks, Pining, Reinterpretation of Character Backstory, Shinguji Korekiyo Has Voices in His Head, Slow Burn, sensory issues, still abuse though!, unlikely friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westchester_tao/pseuds/westchester_tao
Summary: Korekiyo Shinguuji has always been obsessed with people. Faces. Stories.Gonta Gokuhara is made of butterflies and goldenrod, he's got beetles up his arms and worms in his hair. Yet he's somehow more human than anyone Korekiyo has met before.Peculiar.
Relationships: Gokuhara Gonta/Shinguji Korekiyo, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	red admirable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotsofdreamboats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotsofdreamboats/gifts).



> red admirable is my little passion project for my first danganronpa work :] it's a college au following kiyo and his relationships with other characters, and also includes a complete reinterpretation of his backstory. that being said, some major trigger warnings for the following:  
> \- child abuse and neglect  
> \- manipulation  
> \- implied sexual assault  
> \- panic attacks and nausea  
> \- mentions of non-conventional self harm  
> i should also mention that this fic is not based on any canon events in danganronpa outside of character details, so there's no major spoilers for any of the franchise. 
> 
> if you're interested in seeing any of the content i have made for red admirable, including my artwork and playlist, as well as connecting with me on social media, you can find me in the following linktree:
> 
> https://linktr.ee/westchester.tao
> 
> i hope you enjoy!! <3

Korekiyo’s feet falter outside of the massive double doors ahead of him.

There's crowds of people at his shoulders, weaving their own little paths through the wide, yet somehow still too confining, hallway. His eyes flicker down to the handwritten schedule engraved on the first page of his journal, split into 7 even boxes labeled in delicate script with the days of the week. 

Today is Monday, 8:52am. Korekiyo has the words  _ English 303c - World Literature  _ printed along a row labelled 9:00am. The sign over the door reads the same.

The doubt that this could be the wrong classroom digs into the back of his mind- the doors were closed, so perhaps there was a separate entrance? He should check around, he doesn’t want to look like a fool wandering up to the wrong door. But where else would a door be-?

He’s knocked out of it by a small girl pushing her way around him, dodging under his arm and bypassing the moving crowd that has begun to thin out. She approached the doors Korekiyo has been staring at idly, heaving one open with some effort, and slipping inside.

_ Well, that’s sufficient enough evidence. _

Following the girl’s lead, he leans into his stride, approaching the doors and pulling one open.

The room is dimly lit compared to the obnoxious white light of the main hallway, which spills into the room from behind Korekiyo. The lecture hall is built like half of a ceramic bowl, cascading downwards in flights of stairs and desks that meet into one large, central stage. The room was fairly quiet, likely because every whisper was carried out into the open air. It is, in all honesty, a bit smaller than Korekiyo had expected, but the class filled in the space perfectly.

Almost  _ too  _ well. He’s having trouble zoning in on a free seat.

He sees one down front, but he’s moments too late- the girl who entered before him throws herself into it with an echoed  _ thud,  _ untucking her braids to throw behind the back of her seat. The boy next to her seems to startle, pushing his laptop to the opposite side of their shared table.

Korekiyo begins to pace along the back wall, scanning the room for an opening, preferably at his own table, but as he glances up at the clock hung on the wall, he sees that the minutes have ticked up to 8:58. He doesn’t have time to wander.

The first open seat he lays eyes on is close to the back, along the rightmost wall, and Korekiyo makes a beeline for it. It’s only about three rows deep, much further than Korekiyo would like, but he also doesn’t want to face the embarrassment of walking down the stairs should the professor walk out too soon. He drops into the seat without a noise, sweeping his legs under the table and tucking them neatly under himself. He swings the small bag off of his shoulders, placing it onto his lap, before he feels something shift in the chair beside him.

Looking as discreetly to his right, Korekiyo is faced with what he can only describe as  _ a sight _ .

The man sitting beside him is a cedar of a man: even though he is hunched over, he still towers over Korekiyo by a few inches; his hair is an uneven mess of curls, which pour over his shoulders and down his back, pooling in the seat of his chair; and he’s wearing tan suit that is cuffed up to his elbows, with some sort of leaf-print shirt underneath. He’s leaned over a notebook that seems almost comically small in comparison, the pages flowering out from pages of what seem to be glued down pictures and notes that poke out from the sides. 

Korekiyo knows he has a problem with staring, it’s something he’s been working on, but sometimes he thanks his fascination for human details for presenting him with people like  _ this _ . Bursting with personality and stories.

It isn’t until the professor walks out that Korekiyo looks away.

He looks about a decade older than Korekiyo, if he had to guess. His hair is shaved short, out of the way of his average features, and he wears a dark navy overcoat belted tightly around his waist. He looks down at a watch around his wrist for a few seconds before looking up to address the hall.

“Good morning, students,” he speaks out into the hall, his voice catching on the silence. Korekiyo immediately reads an accent- ‘ _ Slavic, of some kind. Likely Russian or Ukrainian’ _ \- before tuning back into what the man is saying.

“...-name’s Professor Egorov, you all will call me Raymond. I’m the head of department for European Literature, so you may have me for other courses if I get moved… again. For now, though, you’re stuck with me.” Raymond twists to look behind himself, grabbing a sheet of paper off his desk and pulling a pair of squared-off glasses from his coat pocket. “I’m not one to waste your time here, so I won’t worry about introducing myself further. If you have any questions about the intimate details of my personal life, you can ask me over email. Instead, I will go over my expectations, and let you know what you need by next week. I guess.”

Korekiyo lets his mind drift focus as the professor begins reciting the important aspects of the syllabus, looking down at his hands wrapped in cotton bandages. He pinches a frayed edge along his ring finger, attempting to tuck it under some of the other existing bandage. This morning, he took the time to double wrap his wrists and forearms, so when he flexes his hand, he feels the comfortable pressure and resistance against his palm. A second skin to wear.

The journal in front of him is still open to his schedule, so he runs a thumb along the edge until it catches the tab for August, prying apart the crisp white pages to reveal his weekly schedule. He hovers over the box designated for Monday before turning back to the professor.

The man is halfway through a supply list, reciting off program details and required readings from the list in his hand. 

_ ‘Ah. I missed something. Unfortunate,’  _ Korekiyo lets out a sigh, quickly writing down the articles he can actually hear before leaning back in his seat. He glances over the list, realizes he’s completely missed, at the bare minimum, the name of the first piece they need, and lets another huff out of his nose.

In the midst of his quiet anxiety whether he’ll find the book online or if he’ll be forced to endure the embarrassing reality of awkwardly interacting with the professor after class, he sees the boy next to him trade pens out of the corner of his eyes.  _ ‘He’s taking notes, it’s likely he wrote it down,’  _ Korekiyo thinks, tilting forward in his chair to try and look at the pages of the boy’s notebook around his large torso.

… He’s not writing anything down.

At least nothing of relevance to Korekiyo’s needs. Instead it seems like the boy is writing some one-way dialogue about… a beetle? Ah, there’s a beetle drawing on the page. There’s a lot of beetle drawings on the page, framed by illegible handwriting even to Korekiyo’s well-trained eye, but he can pick up that they seem to be notes about said beetles.

Korekiyo doesn’t look away fast enough.

“Ah!” the boy exclaims, only about half under his breath. It snaps Korekiyo’s attention instantly, sending his blood to his feet and a sudden chill to pass over his hands. He looks the boy in the face- the lights in the room are dim, but they linger on his skin kindly- and he’s met with an expression of similar embarrassment. “I-is Gonta distracting you?”

Korekiyo suddenly feels 30 pairs of eyes digging into his clothes from the students unfortunately seated in the spaces nearby. Worried that the professor may notice the sudden shift in attention in one corner of the room, and even more worried for any confrontation that could follow, Korekiyo brings a finger to his lips. 

The boy looks like he’s about to verbally apologize, but as he’s taking in a breath, Korekiyo harshly turns away and faces the professor once again. The other seems to flinch in understanding, sinking harder into the wall and returning to his journal.

There’s another boy in front of him looking at him with sharp murky gray eyes, but Korekiyo doesn’t glance his way, and he turns back in his seat. Everyone else settles back into their comfortable note-taking, the situation dropped.

Korekiyo can’t hear the rest of the lecture over the sound of blood pumping in his ears.

After class, Korekiyo finds the first reading almost immediately on the teacher’s webpage. 

Korekiyo only has one other class on Mondays- a lengthy three-hour Chemistry class- which passed with very little issue. He had a chance to have a brief lunch beforehand, where he propped himself in the corner of the cafeteria with his salad, letting himself look out into the crowds of students.

The students here were all so…  _ extravagant _ . It made Korekiyo feel quite bland in his murky green, which he supposes was a nice comfort. 

That same boy who sat in front of him in class walked in just as Korekiyo was settling down, grabbing some food from the swindling breakfast line, and settling beside two others. He was quite similar to Korekiyo in blandness- his most notable feature was the somewhat aggressive way he carried himself- but his companions were comparatively striking. One was draped in a long green coat, white hair fried and frizzy down to his shoulders. The other was a short, round woman, with her feet propped up on the seat of the booth and a portable console in her hands. When the normal-looking boy approached, the white-haired one greeted him openly, while the girl only glanced up in acknowledgement.

Korekiyo also observed an extravagant-looking woman working in a seat nearby, her hair done up in massive drills on either side of her head. She had a massive pad of paper laid out in front of herself, where she seemed to be drafting ideas for a dress that seemed, at least to Korekiyo, to be Lolita-inspired. This time, luckily, he wasn’t caught staring.

After his Chemistry class was finally finished, the sun was starting to drop in the sky. The campus’s stone walkways were illuminated in a gentle orange light, which softened the trees and shrubbery into a warm yellow. 

Korekiyo pondered his options as he faced a campus map posted up outside his lecture hall, narrowing in on a labelled bookshop just outside of the college perimeter near Korekiyo’s dorm. He walked himself on foot down the main street speckled with students fresh from summer vacation, lingering briefly on the outskirts of a small bakery stand put up by the French Students Association, before finally making it the rest of the way to the bookshop.

It rested against the physical wall that marked out the college’s campus, isolating it from the rest of the small city outside. It was a historical downtown, which meant most of the buildings were constructed out of rich red brickwork in sharp contrast to the industrial-looking structures on campus. A variety of fliers were hung along the upper floors of some of the buildings, and Korekiyo was delighted to read they were for a cultural heritage festival occurring in the upcoming month.

The bookstore looked very familiar to all the other buildings around it, only distinguished by it’s old hand-written sign hung above the door and a singular large window that opened into a small café snuggled into the corner of the shop.  _ ‘What a wonderful place to people-watch _ ’.

He pushed open the door delicately, cherishing the gentle ring of the bell above his head, before enveloping himself in the warmth of the store. An employee in the café calls out a welcome over their shoulder, which Korekiyo returns with a silent wave as he takes in the space.

There’s a stairwell down from the landing the café and entrance are located on, which opens into the actual floor of the bookstore. The walls are lined with novels, biographies, poetry, and so, so much more, while the tables scattered around the middle of the room seem to highlight books relevant to the nearby college students. Korekiyo doesn’t immediately head towards the designated table he needs, though, instead choosing to hug the walls and scan over the hundreds of books before him.

They range everywhere from American children’s literature to textbooks to adult novels, all of which are neatly lined up in rows as Korekiyo runs a gentle finger down the spines of bookshelves as he passes. He ends up in front of the history books, which is where he always ends up, and he begins scanning from top to bottom.

He pulls a few to scan that specialize in American and Canadian Indigenous cultures, taking particular interest in one filled with genuine retellings of their folklore, before moving to continue his walk around the store.

Before he can, however, he’s stopped by a voice.

“Ah, excuse me!” it comes from behind him, and Korekiyo immediately recognizes the inflection. He pivots on his heel to half-face the man behind him, and sees his own face reflected back in the circular glasses. 

_ ‘He’s even taller standing up.’ _

“Gonta wanted to apologize for earlier in class,” he begins, fidgeting with his hands. “Gonta didn’t mean to startle you and speak so loudly, he promise it was an accident.”

Korekiyo blinks once, taking a moment to process, before shaking his head with a lighthearted huff. “It’s quite alright, I assure you. I should not have been staring,” Korekiyo turns to face him fully, shifting his feet to straighten his posture. The other boy almost seems to mirror him. “I was only interested in what you were doing, that’s no fault of yours.”

“Ah, did tablemate like Gonta’s bug notes?” the man lights up with a smile, before something seems to click in his head and he corrects, “wait, that rude of Gonta to not ask for tablemate’s name. Can Gonta ask?”

Offering a small bow in consent, Korekiyo moves a hand to place it against his heart. “My name is Korekiyo Shinguuji, however I prefer to be called Kiyo. I’m inferring your name is Gonta, is that correct?”

“Oh, yes!! Gonta’s name is Gonta Gokuhara, but Kiyo can just call him Gonta,” he offered a polite half-bow. Gonta fidgeted with the strap of the satchel slung over his shoulder that rested against his hip, the main flap decorated in a variety of patches, pins, and stickers. A lot of them, now unsurprisingly to Korekiyo, were bugs. 

With a polite nod, Korekiyo continued, “To answer your previous question, I should once again apologize. I was being a bit… nosy, I suppose is the word,” Korekiyo explained, turning to face the bookshelves again. He walked sideways to scan the covers of the next shelf over, which were albums of various topics, including aquatic life, landscapes, and famous paintings. Korekiyo’s fingers caught the spine of one entitled  _ Remains of Civilization _ . “I was only observing your workspace to see if you’d happened to write down the name of the book we were required to purchase, and was caught off guard by your illustration work.”

Gonta shifted along the bookshelves next to Korekiyo, getting into Korekiyo’s space, but there was a clear effort to avoid any unsolicited contact, which he greatly appreciated. The taller man was smiling at the side of Korekiyo’s face. “Gonta sorry he couldn’t help Kiyo with his book, but Gonta happy you liked the beetles! Beetles are one of Gonta’s favorite insects to draw, he thinks they are very kind,” Gonta beamed, turning away to look at the books decorating the shelf that held Korekiyo’s attention. He seemed to notice one in particular, reaching over both of their heads to pull it down into his arms.  _ South American Moths in Photography _ .

“Indeed, they are quite…” Korekiyo faltered, struggling to find a word that would appeal to the apparent bug-enthusiast without making him sound  _ too  _ excited. “... Amiable. They have never caused me problems.”

“Gonta think that very good to hear! Beetles are very important part of ecosystem, and Gonta know beetles to be very friendly bugs to humans. Beetles are also very clean, just like Gonta!” the man looked back down to Korekiyo, who glanced up in acknowledgement. That seemed to remind Gonta of something, as he blinked  _ once, twice,  _ before speaking again. “Gonta sorry for changing topic, but Korekiyo mentioned that Professor Raymond wanted class to buy a book?”

Korekiyo nodded, giving up on looking through the bookshelf to turn back to Gonta. “Yes, our course requires us to purchase our own copies of the texts we read in class. As stated in the syllabus. Raymond announced the title of our first reading at the start of our block, but I was unable to hear what he said-”  **_Why would you lie about that?_ ** “-so i had to find it later on the professor’s webpage.”

“Ah, then would Kiyo be able to help Gonta find it?” Gonta asked nervously, placing the palms of his hands together. “Only if it would be no trouble! Gonta not want to disturb him if you are busy.”

Thinking for a moment if it was worth the effort for someone who had brought him so much stress earlier, Korekiyo forced himself to acknowledge both that Gonta had been nothing but aggressively polite and respectful to the greatest extent Korekiyo could expect, as well as the fact that the book in question was literally  _ two tables away  _ and Korekiyo was about 2 minutes away from grabbing it himself, so it brought no grievance upon himself to help Gonta out. “Of course, I would not mind in the slightest,” Korekiyo chose to respond, nodding his head in the direction of the table labelled ‘Freshman Reading’, before continuing, “Follow me, if you would.”

Korekiyo leads the way gracefully, hovering over the table to find what he’s looking for as Gonta makes his way to stand at his right. He can feel Gonta looking over his actions with interest, eyes tracing the motion of Korekiyo reaching out and grabbing two copies of William Shakespeare’s  _ ‘Macbeth’ _ . 

“This should be correct,” Korekiyo shifts the books in his hands, keeping one as he holds the other towards his company. Gonta has a contemplative look on his face as he takes the play, mouth drawn together as he turns the book over in his hands. It drowns in the absolute size of him.

Flipping through the pages, Gonta’s face shifts from focused to what Korekiyo can only read as mild distraught. He seems to be glazing over the words, and Korekiyo sees the familiar expression where none of them quite seem to  _ stick _ . 

Overcome by the sudden urge to be polite, likely caused by the sudden silence, Korekiyo offers, “Have you ever read a work by Shakespeare before?”

The almost flinch that snaps across Gonta’s face immediately makes Korekiyo reconsider the politeness of the question.  **_He probably hates you for that._ ** But Gonta chuckles behind his teeth anxiously, closing the book in his hands and running his thumb down the spine. “Ah, no, Gonta hasn’t read any of these books. He, uh…” Gonta trails off for a moment, dragging his eyes up to meet Korekiyo. “Kiyo has read books like-” he flips the book to the cover. “- _ Macbeth _ , has he?” 

Korekiyo nods. “I find them to be quite enjoyable, if not somewhat predictable. They are a wonderful reflection of the best of their time period,” Korekiyo begins to ramble, but he catches himself on the draw of Gonta’s eyebrows as he glares down at the pages. He has such an intense natural expression, but Korekiyo doesn’t pick up on any malice. It seems more anxious than anything else.

Something clicks, and he thinks he understands.

“They can be somewhat complicated to interpret, however,” Korekiyo starts, trying to read Gonta’s face. “It’s not the form of English I’m used to, so it can definitely be strenuous to both translate and analyze simultaneously.” Korekiyo reaches out across the table to a stack of books next to the one he handed to Gonta, taking one with a blue spine and tilting it towards the taller man, who is looking at it curiously. “I would recommend taking a copy of this one instead. It translates the original text into something more palatable, while still displaying the full Shakespearean work alongside it.”

Korekiyo looks up as Gonta takes the new book in his hands, and sees a wide smile break out as he flips through the pages. “Wow…” he says under his breath, closing the book to hold it to his chest like Korekiyo just gave him the most precious gift in the world. “Thank you, Kiyo! Gonta appreciates this so much!” he beams at Korekiyo, expression so deeply genuine it makes Korekiyo’s teeth hurt. Something in his eyes softens as he looks back down at the book in his hands.

“Gonta just moved here from far away, so he’s been super nervous about it all. When Gonta was in the English class, he was just… Gonta was so overwhelmed, everyone speaks so fast,” he sighs, pushing his glasses back up his nose with the back of his knuckle. “Gonta wants to be very polite. He knows Americans are very particular about their manners, and Gonta not want to offend anyone! So he was scared to upset anyone, and he thought Kiyo was annoyed with Gonta’s bad manners, and Gonta felt terrible.”

“But Kiyo is so nice! Gonta really, really appreciate Kiyo helping him find the book, and he like Gonta’s beetles, and-” Gonta stops to take a breath, and Korekiyo can see the emotion coming through his features like a glass wall. “Sorry, Gonta gets easily overwhelmed,” he lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing as he turns to face Korekiyo fully. He dips down into a polite half-bow. “Gonta thanks you.”

Korekiyo returns the bow with a lighthearted chuckle, amused at the other boy’s enthusiasm. “Of course, Gonta. It is my pleasure,” he cradles the book he is holding close to his heart. He’s nervous to continue speaking, but Gonta looks like he’s patiently waiting for Korekiyo to speak, so he takes it in stride. “Shakespeare wrote his works to appeal to people of every class in England at the time, which was unusual for a playwright of his status. His performances would be frequented by royalty and peasants alike, which was reflected in the construction of the theatre they were performed in, but also in many other aspects of his writing.”

“The language used and the characters portrayed were both designed to be accessible to those of the lower class, including those who didn’t have a high education, which is why I am so frequently frustrated at the elitism of so many modern educators,” Korekiyo explains, appreciative of Gonta’s complete interest and fascination with his tangent. It makes something in Korekiyo’s rib cage feel warm. “So I hope you can find some value in the translated version. I believe that is what Shakespeare would have desires for the progression of his works.”

Gonta nods, an appreciative smile on his face as he brings a hand up to comb through his hair. “Gonta agrees! Kiyo seems very researched on Shakespeare, Gonta think that's really cool.”

Korekiyo is dragged out of the conversation by the chime of a clock,  _ One, Two, Five, Seven  _ times.  **_You need to go. You’ve held him up too long._ **

But Gonta keeps speaking. “Gonta also think if Kiyo likes Shakespeare, then maybe Gonta can like it too! He really look forward to reading it.”

“That is wonderful to hear,” Korekiyo brings a hand up to rest against his own cheek, a mask for the anxious twitch he can feel in his palm. “I do very hope you enjoy it. Now, I apologize for leaving so abruptly, but I must get going to grab a meal from the café. I believe it closes soon.”

A flash of what Korekiyo can only assume is embarrassment passes over Gonta’s face as he glances down at the watch bound to his wrist, and he responds, “Oh, Gonta did not realize the time, Gonta’s sorry! Kiyo should hurry, Gonta did not mean to hold him up.” Gonta does a shorter, smaller bow of his head, before beginning to turn away towards the front register. “Gonta thanks Kiyo again! He will see Kiyo Wednesday, yes?”

Korekiyo nods, and Gonta finalizes the exchange with a pleasant, “Kiyo take care!”, which Korekiyo responds with a polite wave.

_ ‘That was… somewhat overwhelming,’  _ he thinks, closing his eyes for a moment before turning on his heel to make his way to the store’s café. He can purchase his books there, since he has what he actually came here for. There’s a line of people at the register, and Korekiyo places some of his things at a small two-seat table by the window to claim his spot before taking his spot in line behind two girls.

As he tries to figure out what he wants from the menu, his mind keeps dragging him back to the conversation. Gonta was just so… unbelievably kind. Korekiyo hasn’t had someone listen to him that attentively in… well. Ever. It’s jarring and unsettling, and that memory in his head keeps screaming,  **_He didn’t mean it, he didn’t care_ ** , but the weightless sensation that passes through his chest is enough for him to ignore it. 

He orders a simple Iced Chai Latte- he’s never been a huge fan of coffee, but he’s in the mood for caffeine- and an asiago bagel. He’s aware he doesn’t  _ need  _ caffeine at 9:00, especially considering he has no issues staying up without it, but it helps him keep the late-night migraines away. And he deserves it. At least a little.

While he’s waiting by the pickup window, he runs bandaged fingers over the embossed title on the book in his hands.  _ Macbeth _ . He’s read it, of course. Multiple times. It’s a wonderful story, considering the historical context, so Korekiyo isn’t complaining, but he does hope they will branch out into more obscure readings further into the curriculum. Regardless, Korekiyo sees no harm in reading it once more, and commits himself to starting it tonight. 

His name is called from behind the counter, and his name feels so out of place in the stranger’s mouth. They say it as though it’s two syllables, slurred into a mess of consonants, and though Korekiyo is used to it by now, it still digs into him. Gonta said it so clearly, just how it was meant to sound. Korekiyo didn’t realize how much it meant until then.

Taking his order with a gesture of thanks, he paces back to his table and settles into his chair. He sweeps his belongings back into his lap, storing his personal reading for later in his bag and placing it at his feet.

When he looks back at the table, he sees a book he didn’t notice prior.

He’s never seen it before, and he immediately considers the idea that someone accidentally left it with his possessions, but as he pulls it closer, he realizes the likely owner. The cover is printed with the words  _ Historical Evolution of Beetles, _ and it’s decorated in a vibrant graphic of various beetle species, all laid out in a confusing timeline that spills onto the back. 

Korekiyo’s assumptions are proven true when he opens to the first page, where he’s met with a sticky note pressed against the inside. 

_ Hello, Kiyo!! _

_ Gonta wanted to give Kiyo a book he enjoys very much, since Gonta thought he might like it. Kiyo seems very smart, and he was very knowledgeable about history and books, so Gonta thought Kiyo might like beetle history too! Gonta want to pay back favor of Kiyo helping him. _

_ Best _ ~~_ rega _ ~~ _ wishes, _

_ Gonta Gokuhara _

There’s a roughly-drawn beetle next to Gonta’s signature, and Korekiyo can’t help himself from laughing behind his hand at the small hat drawn on its head. He pulls the sticky note off of the page, instead taking his planner from his bag and placing it on some of the free pages in the front.

Gonta is so… fascinating. Korekiyo hasn’t met someone with so much character in all of his world travels, which he’s unsure if that is at his own fault or at Gonta’s powerful presence. He wonders where the boy might be from- his name would suggest Japan, just like Korekiyo, but the large Asian-American demographic around the school means many of the students are second or further generation, so he can’t be sure.

A wonderful subject for study. Korekiyo places Macbeth back in his bag, and opens the book in front of him.

Today is Monday, 9:12pm. 

**Author's Note:**

> red admirable is dedicated to my wonderful editor (and local ryoma lover), dream, and my lovely partner, east.
> 
> love you both <3


End file.
